Having something unexpected happen (something typically negative) right before a race happens more often than not it seems. Some could call it a distraction, others getting cheated. I have come to a point of doing my best amidst the natural disappointment to embrace the challenges and do the best to my human capability to work through it.

At the Whiskey this came on a post travel easy spin after arriving in Prescott. I randomly clipped a pedal while out on some mellow trail with Chloe and hit the ground hard. My left forearm took a hard hit, and in return jammed up my newly repaired shoulder. This was my first hard crash since overcoming multiple injuries last season, and in part was good to get it out of the way, in part relieved that my shoulder stayed in socket, but it left my shoulder aching and sore, with restricted range of motion and intense impingement. I damaged something in there yet again.

The Whiskey weekend became more about overcoming that set-back than the racing itself. It took me a day to know for sure that I would be able to start the races. I raced somewhat conservatively as I wasn’t in a place to take risks, and so both the crit and the backcountry marathon remain stepping stones toward being able to battle amidst the mix of the action rather than suffering my heart out just to hang on. Although my shoulder was weak and sore, it was able to get the job done.

I love being out racing, but it has been a slower process than I expected… finding the ability to dig deep and still go deeper. Right now, I just feel like I continue to suffer, and focus on staying positive that the work is going to show at some point. It has been a long testing of patience.

Whiskey will always be special to me. It was at Whiskey where I took my first pro win in 2016. The season is still young; let’s see what we can accomplish!

Gratitude became my focus; gratitude to be present, gratitude that the percussions of the crash weren’t worse, and gratitude to be rooted in hope despite the outcome.

There is certainly no convenient time to break a leg. I could have said that April was the worst possible time, at the very start of an exciting race season. Instead of traveling on to California for a block of Pro XCT races from Pan American Championships, I flew home, landing in Kalispell simultaneously with my mother and sister in-law who had planned to come to help out with Layla during my travels. Turned out they were here for another reason… My husband, Nelson, picked us up and home we all went.

Three days later, I went under the knife to have my fibula plated.

The emotions raged fiercely. As much support as I had, it was really up to me to work through the emotions as best as I was able. The loss experienced during injury pushed me into a season of grief. I felt the anger of having been betrayed by my body that I worked so hard to keep strong and healthy. I grieved the loneliness that I felt nobody quite understood as everyone else’s lives and race seasons continue on as normal. I felt abandoned and forgotten. I struggled understanding “why”, after trusting God with the process. I was forced to revise and postpone goals that my heart was set on pursuing. It made me ask all the hard questions… Should I have raced Pan Ams? Did I rehab my shoulder enough? Did I prepare my best? Am I equipped? Do I belong? Why am I racing my bike? …since it has brought me this kind of suffering.

In addition, my marriage had been under attack for some time, and Nelson and I were deep in a separate war fighting for each other, and dedicated to the battle. I felt as though the raging war against me just might break me and take the victory.

I had nowhere to escape to, without the option of sorting out my frustrations while hashing out a set of hard intervals, or long hikes in the mountains; or even going for a drive since I couldn’t drive. I spent many days sitting in my recliner with really no choice but to face the mountains in front of me. I cried for weeks. The tears allowed the many layers of denial to begin to peal away from my heart and over the next several weeks I became the most raw and broken I have ever been. My family and friends came and went. Layla stayed by my side, and it was all I could do to make life as normal for her as possible.

Attending Sea Otter with Nelson within a week of surgery was good but very hard. Physically, I could not have functioned without Nelson’s help and he became a rock for me during this time, which was monumental for us. Watching the races under my current condition felt like I was torturing myself, while doing my best to put a smile on my face, and support and celebrate my teammates.

“6 weeks,” my doctor said for the bone to heal, and I set my eyes on returning back to race Cross Country Nationals in July. I didn’t quite realize at the time, that meant at 6 weeks I could start the process to begin walking again; but the stiffness, swelling, clicking, and discomfort would linger months longer.

At 4 weeks, I was given the green light to begin partial weight bearing and start riding my stationary bike. Simultaneously, my incision became infected, and was such a distraction, I felt like the tiny spark I had felt was blown out by the wind of the pain and worry of the infection. After nearly a full round of antibiotics without improvement, my surgeon scheduled a second surgery to remove the hardware, since the bacteria can survive the antibiotics if in contact with the hardware. In his words, I was told that only “miraculous” improvement would allow any exceptions. Then, I was given a “YES”…. A miracle happened. The infection began to clear and my doctor cancelled my surgery and prescribed a second round of antibiotics in its place. Just in time by chance?… Maybe, but I clung to that “yes” as I felt God’s whisper in my ear that He hadn’t forgotten me and that I needed to continue to trust Him.

The layers of denial were gone; and through finding the willingness to surrender, I was able to finally accepted my circumstances. It was here where healing began. The infection cleared, my quality of life began improving. I began riding my bike first on the road then on the dirt. Layla and I started spending long afternoons at the beaches of our beautiful Montana, mountain lakes; as our bodies absorbed the healing rays of the sun after a long winter and spring.

My hunger and fire was hiding away, smoldering unfound somewhere inside of me. Although my spirit was at peace, I began to identify that racing in July wasn’t a good idea mentally or physically; and I began to consider having my shoulder repaired before my insurance year ended. After listing the Pros and Cons, I had no reason to wait. Pursuing shoulder surgery now would give my body the opportunity to fully heal. I would be healthy for winter in Montana to ski, and it would give myself the time it takes to build my fitness back. I would return to racing fully sound, racing the races that I was passionate to race. I could take care of my mental health without the pressure of racing; all while not under the financial burden of meeting another out of pocket deductible. Making the decision to have my shoulder repaired was incredibly empowering and I felt a sense of control over my situation.

The torn labrum in my shoulder was repaired on June 28, just two days shy of the conclusion of my insurance year. This was the best decision I could have made for myself. Although the surgery requires a 6 month recovery, it has been a cakewalk in comparison to my leg injuries. I began hiking less than a week following the surgery, and riding the trainer within two weeks. At 7 weeks, I began to ride outdoors on the road, and I am currently into my second week of mellow mountain biking at 2.5 months out; but in base training mode, none the less, with high volume rides. My strength training and rehab is ramping up. But, most importantly I am healthy and my family is healthy. The rawness of my heart has allowed the space for my marriage to be on its way to a beautiful place. I am grounded in my identity, my identity beyond being a bike racer.

Slowly, I have felt a joy returning to my spirit, and I feel excited about embarking on a new journey. One that I expect will continue to take blood, sweat, and tears. I am in an expectant season, as I work and yearn for what is to come. I am able to look back and see the beauty amongst the ashes. When life gets hard, it’s ok to hurt, in fact it’s good to hurt. I would rather feel pain than feel nothing. In fact, we should lean into seasons of pain, because it is in the struggle where character is built and growth takes place.

 

I have learned a great deal, but there are a few principles that stand out… knowing when to fight and when to surrender, remembering that my best is good enough, trusting the process, embracing the work (which goes far beyond ‘training’ alone), always staying humble and kind, AND last but not least that the battle belongs to the Lord!

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”  –                      2 Corinthians 12:9

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you.” – Isaiah 43:2

 

 

 

 

I had never been to Pan American Championships before, but going into the 2018 season, my focus was more points driven than in the past, with some goals of improving my World Cup performances and UCI ranking as the Olympics in 2020 approaches. I can’t say even now that an Olympic position is my goal, as I still wait for necessary doors to open, but I certainly wanted to chisel away at the dream and never limit my potential through doubts. So when I got the e-mail from the USA Cycling Mountain Bike Program Director about petitioning for Pan Ams, I began to consider the trip to Colombia rather than staying state side and racing the same opening round of the Pro Cross Country Tour series in Fontana City, California, as I had done for the previous 3 years in a row. In addition, when an open door presents itself, it has always been a challenge to myself to walk through the door with faith, as long as it isn’t forced. Walking that out most often means facing fear and some unknowns, but how important to continue to challenge our- selves.

So, a few weeks later, I find myself reuniting with Stan’s-Pivot pb Maxxis teammates Chloe Woodruff and Keegan Swenson, as well as the team support crew in Colombia. This would be the first real race of the season, as I primarily prepared indoors throughout another intense Montana winter. The first day on course ended up being a tough day, as this was the first time putting the work that I had done throughout the winter rehabbing my left shoulder after a series of dislocations in 2017, to the test. To my dismay it popped out of socket landing one of 7 jumps per lap on this insanely steep course; and was incredibly unstable following the dislocation. By race day, it hadn’t improved much, but I was prepared to give it my all in faith that God was going to miraculously help me out through this one. Unfortunately, I would go on to finish the most miserable race of my career.

As the race began, I was struggling to find rhythm and a flow to the course. After completing the first of 5 laps and was heading out for my 2nd lap, I slid out on some loose gravel, and in an effort to catch my fall I put a foot down, and severely sprained my ankle. At first, it went numb and I could feel nothing, then as I began to ride again, I was only able to put minimal power to the pedal, but I kept pushing assuming that the initial pain would go away. I was descending gingerly, in an unsuccessful attempt to keep my shoulder from getting snagged inside. I continued to have to grab my top tube and pull my torso back, or simply let my arm relax and dangle, or sometimes I just had to stop so I could use my good arm to pull my bad arm enough to untangle the shoulder. I was failing to consistently clear the steep climbs, and each time I didn’t clear a climb, unclipping became more difficult.  As the race went on, I became unable to unclip from my pedal any longer, and so clearing the climbs became my goal, otherwise I would just fall over (which also happened). I continued to hit a few of the jumps that I felt most comfortable with for a couple laps before surrendering to the B lines on the last lap or two. I really didn’t know where I was in the race, but my body was beginning to fail and I realized that I was beginning to whimper, as spectators would ask me what was wrong during my efforts to un-snag my shoulder or limp up a hill.

I was finishing my 4th of 5 laps, and remember praying that I would be pulled to put me out of my misery. I assumed I would be… I had to be far behind; but I was not. I thought about pulling myself, but physically I was able to continue and would be disappointed with myself if I didn’t finish. I just had to get through one more lap, and half crying up every climb and engaging my back muscles to try my best from letting my shoulder get tangled up inside, I made it to the finish line where I was met by USA cycling team support and Stan’s-Pivot team mechanic Jerome, where they helped me unclip from my pedal and get to the medical tent.

The Colombian medical staff were the kindest people, as tears of disappointment streamed down my cheeks. I remember a man in the medical tent coming over with so much sympathy in his eyes and just began stroking my hair. Made me think for a moment that I should be tougher and not make people feel bad for me, but in the end the tears needed to run, and they would continue often for next few months after this.

I was about to embark on a journey of grief, loneliness, and isolation as I have watched a full race season come and is now winding down. One that I’m still working through, but now have more good days than bad and can appreciate my improving health as I have regained building back fitness and healing.

After enduring the 30 hour travel day to get home and a series of doctor appointments, I discovered that my fibula had been fractured, and that it would need to be surgically repaired. My body was a disaster between my right leg, left shoulder, and a broken heart.  This one was going to leave it’s mark.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Long flight home from the Czech Republic following mountain bike world championships, gives me time to write and reflect on the last week and yesterday’s race. The races go by so fast, and before I know it, the season will be winding down. It’s important to spend time reflecting on the journey, the process, the challenges, the success. Every aspect is a part of a story that I strive to appreciate and savor.

On my list of goals for this season, Mountain Bike World Championships was planned as a high priority race granted that I would again receive the invitation to attend. The team was announced about three short weeks prior to the event, and the excitement that ran through my body when I saw my name on the list was confirmation that I would/should be attending.

I got to the logistics planning right away, as I knew that accounting for Layla would be a little more of a challenge with my mom out of town at my family reunion and Nelson working night shift during the week that I would be in the Czech Republic. In the end, I booked Layla a ticket on my mom’s flight and sent her to my family reunion in California. She was giddy with excitement for the full 3 weeks leading up to her trip. She is growing up so fast; excited to be going on an airplane like her mom, and excited to bring me back a “surprise” (I always bring Layla back a little something after each time being away).

Proceeding the World Championships, I had raced a block of four marathon distance races including the Epic Rides series and Marathon Nationals. My last cross country race had been Sea Otter, two months prior, and although my training was dialing in to XC racing again, I was a bit concerned that I would be rusty with the intensity of such a race as the XCO World Championships. Regardless, I was absolutely thrilled to be able to attend.

Nove Mesto was a sleepy little town in the country, surrounded by green rolling fields and lots of farming.

Team USA stayed at a little quaint hotel a short spin from the venue. Only my second European race and second time traveling there, my body seemed to handle the travel better than last year, and I felt good for multiple days leading into the race. Meeting back up with Chloe for the first time since Whiskey 50 was great, and I was fortunate to have her to do some course recon and hot laps with in preparation.

Chloe helped me choose to bring my Pivot Mach 429, as her past experiences in Nove Mesto confirmed the course was greatly suited for a dually. I was definitely happy with this choice, as the track was rough with a lot of roots on the climbs and descents, not to mention the rock gardens.

By the time race day arrived I was more than ready to attack the battle in front of me. Of the nearly 70 starters, I was number 51, and second to last row call up. Accumulating points to move up in start position is a process that requires attending races where I can earn UCI points, specifically world cup races. It takes time and consistency. Within the first 30 seconds of the race, I navigated my way around a girl who sadly broke her chain, as well as a nasty crash, while I’m pretty sure by that point I was in dead last as we headed into the start loop.

Even after warming up for 40 minutes, the intensity was shocking to my body as I fought to move up before the single track began. The first couple of laps felt congested with traffic, as the race began to sort itself out. I was steadily moving up, and as I headed into the 3^rd full lap of 5, my body started to respond to the effort that I was asking of it. I was passing girls on each climb and gaining a few positions every lap. I was feeling good and turns out my lap times were getting faster as the race went on with my fastest lap being my last and final lap. I ended up in 32^nd, only separated from the four girls in front of me by five seconds. I internally really wanted a top 25, but feel excited for 2 more world cup races this season and for the opportunity to make that happen. In all, my race was clean and I’m happy with the effort, but what I love the most about racing at this level is the challenge. I am going home ready to put in some hard work in preparation for Nationals in two weeks.

Chloe delivered an incredible performance finishing in 14^th, and the USA women took home a 2^nd, 11^th, 14^th, 15^th, 30^th, 32^nd, and 40^th and making the USA women the top ranked country for this event.

USA Cycling and Team Stans-Pivot provided the tools for a smooth race. My bike felt amazing, it just floated over the rough roots and rocks. I’m filled with gratitude to those who encourage, support, and challenge me.

Another weekend and another win for team Stan’s-Pivot. I can not emphasize enough, how blessed I feel to have the opportunity to travel and race my bike with the support of team Stan’s – Pivot. This race was confirmation that the Columbia County, Georgia 60 mile course garnered one of the toughest races I have ever raced. I thought it was hard last year, but this year with an increase of at least 15 degrees in temperature and much higher humidity from last year, no relief was offered.

I had the benefit of staying with a host family, who are very involved with the marathon mountain bike race, David and Tammy Funk, and they really doted on me from meals, to bike assembly, as well as feed zone support. They made my stay comfortable and spoiled me greatly.

My bike delivery was delayed by a day, so I was able to borrow a bike for a short pre-ride on Thursday (Thanks to Tammy). By Friday, I was very happy to have my Pivot Les 29 back under me, and completed another short pre-ride joined by Duncan McGuire who so graciously traveled to support me during the race and insure that my Stan’s Valors were set up with the very best Maxxis tires for the course (turned out to be the Ikon). The pre-rides were hot. Fortunately, the course was mostly under foliage and received some breeze from the nearby lake, but with the high humidity, the shade doesn’t offer the same relief that it does at home.

Saturday was hot! I’m gonna repeat the heat multiple times because it’s the first thing I think of when asked how the race went. By the 9am start it must have already been pushing 90. The pro men started 2 minutes in front of the pro women. I was definitely disappointed to have such a small women’s field,  but appreciative of each lady who stood with me on the start line. Marathon nationals has been an A race on my calendar from the beginning of planning the season… hopefully better attendance next year. Regardless, I was hoping for a solid day of racing, and by starting sandwiched between the pro men and men’s masters fields, I hoped to have some company. About an hour into the race, I started spotting a few riders in front of me, of which I was able to get around. The flowy trails in the first half of the race were fast, yet still required pedaling the whole time. The Pivot Less 29 was smooth and fast and the Maxxis Ikon tires prevented sliding atop the slick pine needle covered trails.

Clif Bar hydration mix,  energy food pouches, and electrolyte tabs every 30 or 40 minutes was what saved me going into the second half of the race. From fast and flowy, the trail changed to slow, zigzagging, rooty trail that was the biggest mental test of the race. I kept reminding myself to stay focused. Whenever I lost focus, I would start feeling how much my feet hurt, the developing blisters on my hands, and my soaked with sweat skinsuit combined with the rough trail was starting to create saddle sores. I said a few prayers as I rode alone. As the temperatures continued to increase, I could feel the heat and began to take precautions to finish well by staying efficient, fueling more, and focused on pacing myself. By the time I reached the 3^rd feed zone around mile 40, the roughest trail sections were over. Being greeted by my loyal supporters who stood out in the blazing sun on my behalf, retrieving a fresh ice sock for my back, chugging an additional cold bottle of water, I was motivated to finish strong. The trail smoothed out and a little section of pavement gave some relief to the relentless course. I had a few riders from the masters men’s fields pass me during this portion of the race a little over 3 hours in, which was kind of nice and helped me to keep accelerating as much as possible.

As I pedaled the last 5 KM of double track, I started to feel droplets of water hitting my knees as I pedaled, and I wondered if it had started to sprinkle rain until I realized that my braid had become so saturated with sweat that it had started constantly dripping. Grose, I know…. But that was a first for me.

After about 4 hours and 50 minutes, I crossed the finish line, looking like I had just jumped out of a lake, and securing the stars and stripes for another year for myself and my team.

 

I am living out an incredible divine story, and my heart is so full of gratitude to each person and each company that I am honored to be associated with. We are a team, and the teamwork and camaraderie is leading to a highly successful season for both Chloe and I. I am a blessed women to be on my way home to Montana where my husband and daughter anxiously await my arrival. Team Stan’s-Pivot will meet up again for the Carson City Off-Road in two weeks, where I will race the last of the Epic Rides races, as well as the last of this endurance race block.